


The Deeper the Grief

by Oak_Leaf



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Grieving, References to Character Death, Thick as Thieves Spoilers, the gods - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oak_Leaf/pseuds/Oak_Leaf
Summary: He was kneeling before the inner altar, bowed low to the ground, arms stretched forward in supplication.





	The Deeper the Grief

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Shouldn't you be with him/her?"

The temple of Hephestia in Attolia was a stunning building, the product of both Attolian and Eddisian artisans. The sturdy, square, pillared designs of Eddis, combined with the rounded, swooping styles of Attolia. At the dedication ceremony, Ornon admired the powerful appearance (for both the political statement it made and the piece of architecture it was). It had been his first visit; he was indifferent when it came to the old gods—any gods—and might not have visited the temple at were it not necessary for Eddis’s ambassador to be present at the ceremony. But, he would not deny that the building was beautiful. Particularly then, with the midday light gleaming off the stones, and the place alive with visitors, colors, and the echoing chants of the High Priestess.

It was less beautiful now, during his second visit, much later. The lamps still had not been lit for the evening, and shadows were growing in the crevices of the lonely, cold chambers. Even the priestesses and priests were nowhere to be seen. The place seemed empty.

The king wasn’t there; it had been a mistake to come, then. Ornon turned, to leave and searching elsewhere, when he caught sight of Eugenides. He was kneeling before the inner altar, bowed low to the ground, arms stretched forward in supplication.

Ornon’s footsteps sounded loudly as he approached, and the king stiffened as though startled. He straightened and turned, an odd look on his face. Ornon wondered if Eugenides had expected another, less less earthly, less mortal visitor.

“Has there been a change?” Eugenides asked, before Ornon could even open his mouth to greet him.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

The king slowly turned back to the altar, bowing his head once more. He did not speak. In the silence, the atmosphere of the room grew cold and tense and heavy. For the first time in a long while, Ornon felt awkward and unsure. With a desperate search through his mind for what to do and say, he decided to risk what repercussions he might bring, and asked, “Shouldn’t you be with the queen?”

It was blunt, and it was bold, and may have been the wrong thing to say. For all that this was Eugenides, the trouble-making boy Ornon has known since Gen was a baby, he was the king of Attolia. And surely, given the present situation, he would be less giving than usual and twice as short tempered.

Surprisingly, there was no snapping reply. There was no growl. There was no reaction at all from Eugenides for a long moment. And then, when he did speak, it was in a calm tone without bite.

“And do what?” he asked, sounding more tired than anything else. “Should I pace outside her door? Sit uselessly at her bed, and watch as…” He shook his head. “No. I’m here, like the good little believer that I am. I’m making sacrifices and pleading with everything that is in me for the gods to let her stay, even if—“ There, at last, the disturbingly calm voice shook and broke. Desperation and sorrow filled its cracks as he continued, in a whisper, “Even if they did not choose to intervene and save my child.”

His shoulders shook, but there was no sound. And as Ornon watched Eugenides grip the fabric on his right arm so tightly that the knuckles on his one hand turned white, he realized he was not dealing with an angry king. This was a young man plagued with fear.

A Eugenides who was afraid was a terrifying sight.

Sighing, Ornon stepped beside the boy, and dropped to his knees as well. He remembered a few prayers from his youth. So he stayed bowed at the side of the scared young man, and joined him in petitioning the gods Eugenides believed in. And their voices filled the quiet, cold chamber.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not actually related to my fic "The River Knows Its Time"...probably. (The update on that is coming, I swear on my hand.)


End file.
